A Mercurial Mixture of Madnesss and Tea
by CommodoreOblivious
Summary: Alice turns up at the tea table unexpectedly and cannot recognize the man in front of her. The mercury has changed him and Alice doesn't know how to help him. Or if she even can.
1. Tea Again

Chapter One.

Disclaimer: I have no idea who _Alice in Wonderland_ belongs to now, but it certainly isn't me. So thanks to whoever has the rights to it for letting me take a turn around its' universe.

She was at tea again. While she had grown and changed the table had remained the same. Curious. There was the same tea set, the same butter dish, and even the same tea-stained table cloth. Even curiouser, she had no idea how she came to sit at the long, cluttered table. There was a tea steamed pleasantly in front of her in a fragile, ceramic cup. She hadn't been able to actually _drink_ any tea on her last visit all those years ago.

A tea pot snored on her right. She hesitantly lifted the lid to find a napping Door Mouse, muttering in his sleep. She wondered where the other guests could have gone. She checked her watch. It read six o'clock. Of course it did. Behind her a voice muttered in agreement, "Always six o'clock, always _six_ o'clock..."

She turned and through the darkness of the forest she spotted a figure walking the path to the tea table. His over-large hat was the first thing to become visible as he stepped into the sunlight. His head was bowed and his eyes glued to the pocket watch in his gloved hand. It looked as if the hat was threatening mutiny sitting so precariously upon his wild locks.

"Hatta," she murmured, not quite sure if she should be delighted or disappointed. He was so rude the last they were at tea.

He was distracted from his pocket watch and abruptly looked up, closing it with a loud _snap_. His gloved hand tightened noticeably around the poor timepiece and he stared at her for a long moment. His eyes were wide and startled, but she didn't get a chance to take in his appearance otherwise because he had turned on his heel and was walking speedily back into the forest.

"Do stay," she implored to his retreating form. She felt terrible for upsetting him. She was, after all, the intruder. His back stiffened, but he did stop. Slowly, he turned. "Please?" she asked. He seemed to think about it before he turned again and made his way to the table as if he had never been interrupted. He sat down in the furthest seat from her and didn't move at all for several minutes.

Alice studied him for that stretch of time. This was not at all the hatter she had met before. Yes, the appearance was the same and there was the same fascination with Time, but his manner was comparably wrong. Before he had been loud and belligerent. Now it looked as if he couldn't shrink any farther into himself. She opened her mouth the speak when there was a flick of striped fur at the corner of her vision. She tore her gaze from the curious man and there the Cheshire cat sat quite happily upon the table. His tail flicked happily (When was the cat not happy? The tale-tell grin never left his face.) and he purred up at her.

"It's the felt, you know," he said.

The blonde girl blinked. She should have expected such an answer from the cat. All he spoke was riddles. "So it is him? Hatta?" She looked between the two. The cat grinned and the man at the end of the table hid his eyes behind the brim of his hat. Was he trembling?

"That is the Hatter. What's left of him, I suppose. It's all because of the felt, you see." He licked a paw and flicked his tail as if he were swatting at imaginary flies. Perhaps he was, Alice mused.

"Why don't you join him for tea?" the cat suggested. He didn't wait for an answer--he disappeared suddenly from the table. She did hate it when he did that. However, she wasn't sure whether she preferred his gradual disappearance any better. The disembodied grin made her uncomfortable.

She turned her attention back to Hatta. His gloved fingers ran along the edge of the tea plate in front of him. He made no move to touch the beverage. She suddenly felt guilty for talking about him in front of him, but she supposed that it was better than talking behind him. She wasn't sure whether to start with a greeting or an apology. She decided that it would be easier to do the former. "Hello, Hatta."

He did not meet her eyes. Frozen in the same position, he looked like a statue instead of a man. It even looked as if he had stopped breathing. "Hullo," he murmured. She could hardly hear him from across the table.

"Do you remember me?"

He looked up at her as if seeing her for the first time. He tried not to meet her eyes. "You're Alice. Alice, alice, alice..." His voice tapered off into silence.

She was surprised he would remember her from the short amount of time she had seen him. Even then, he hadn't paid any mind of her after the tea party. He had been too frightened of the Queen at the trial on the first visit and had been too busy working as the King's messenger her second trip to the strange place she liked to refer as "Wonderland."

"You've grown," he said and abruptly covered his mouth with a gloved hand. Frightened eyes met hers before he studied the tea cup in front of him.

She smiled, trying to reassure the nervous man. "Yes, I have. It's been quite a long time since I last visited."

"How long?" He seemed genuinely confused. His words echoed those he had muttered on his way to the table, "It's _always_ six o'clock."

"It's been more than a few years."

"Years?" he was surprised, "Time must like you."

She smiled, "I wouldn't say that."

"How old are you?" He peered at her from under his hat.

"You should know it isn't proper to ask a lady her age," she chided in jest. However, Hatta again disappeared under his large hat. She could hear a quiet, "I'm sorry" from under the felt.

"Ch-change places," he said suddenly and stood. Making his way to another seat, he stopped when he noticed Alice hadn't moved. "Alice?"

She sighed but stood, as well. This time, she knew enough to take her tea with her. Hatta sat in a new seat and pulled out his pocket watch. So absorbed in it, he didn't notice until she sat down that hers was the seat next to his. He dropped the watch to the table and shifted away as far as he could without falling to the ground. Pretending not to notice, she finally took a sip of her tea. It was warm now, but was still quite good. Somehow, it had just enough sugar and milk.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, deciding that it was a safe subject. There was a short movement that she interpreted to be a nod and lent over to pick up the closest pot to her. She poured the tea and passed it to him, waiting until his gloved hands took it from her rather than placing it on the table. "How about some bread? There's butter and jam."

"Just butter, please."

He sipped his tea with trembling fingers while she spread the butter. She made herself a piece, as well. She sat quietly and chewed while watching him out of the corner of her eye. It was silent until the hat said, "You weren't invited."

She finished chewing before answering. "I know. I'm very sorry for trespassing, but I really had no choice. I was home one moment and here the next. Would you like me to leave?"

"Your hair still wants cutting," was his response.

"And you still make personal remarks."

She turned herself so she could face him. Or face the hat that hid his face. Gently, she lifted the brimmed felt and placed it on the table. His startled face was finally revealed. His skin was as pale as the ceramic tea-set and wild silver hair fell into violet eyes and about his shoulders in all directions. She hadn't marveled about it when she'd first met him--everything in Wonderland was just so strange. Now she had enough world experience to know that silver wasn't a natural color on a man so young. And young he was. At seven, he had appeared so much older. Now, he looked to be not a day over thirty.

As she took in his appearance, a slight blush tinted his pale cheeks. The cup and plate he was holding clattered together as his hands shook. She put her hands over the leather of his gloves and held them still. The blush deepened. "Alice?" he whispered.

"That's better. Drink your tea, now." She sipped at her own cup. "Where is the March Hare?"

"He...hasn't come to tea lately. I don't know when, where, or why he is."

Alice didn't quite know what to say to that, so she said, "That's too bad."

There was that tiny nod, again. He nibbled at the bread and butter. After a moment, her stomach felt unexpectedly queasy and she thought that she might be sick here at the table. She stared into her tea, hoping it could calm her roiling stomach. Had it been the tea? What was happening to her? Her vision swam and when it cleared again she was home. The tea party and the Mad Hatter were no where to be seen.


	2. Wishes

Chapter Two.

The second time she was at tea, she wasn't alone. Hatta sat at one end of the table, his head pillowed on folded arms while his overlarge hat hid most of his face from view. She sighed. Appearing so suddenly in Wonderland made her feel like her brain was doing flip-flops in her head. The March Hare was absent again and when she listened to for the snores of the Door Mouse she could hear none. There was only the soft breathing of the hatter.

Alice stood and quietly made her way to him. She studied what she could of his appearance. His hat wasn't the only article of clothing he wore that was much too big. His trousers were baggy and torn at the hem from dragging along the ground. He wore a tea-stained, collared shirt with the cuffs unbuttoned. A fancy vest hung from his shoulders, also unbuttoned. The dark maroon of the vest contrasted harshly against his white shirt and ceramic skin. His wild, silver hair had settled over his shoulders.

"Time has been harsh to him," came a rumbling voice above her. She knew who it was without looking.

"What do you mean, Cat?"

He grinned from the limb of a nearby tree. "Exactly what I say, dear Alice."

She mentally slapped herself. "They still haven't made up?"

The oddly colored cat jumped gracefully from the tree to the table, rattling dishes. Somehow, Hatta slept on. "Time is cruel. He speeds along when one is having fun. He slows down during moments of distress. And sometimes, he stops all together. The equivalent is Death in your world, I believe."

The blood drained from her face. She suddenly felt cold. "Death? Hatta's dead?"

The cat's grin widened. The striped tail slid across the table cloth like a metronome. "Oh, no. Death doesn't visit this world. She's much too busy in yours." Her gaze turned to Hatta. He hadn't moved, but somehow he looked much different than before. She looked up, but the Cheshire cat was gone.

Her fingers moved on their own to brush against the sleeping man's cheek. He murmured something and she leaned down to listen. Instead of continuing, his silver lashes twitched, then fluttered like the wings of a butterfly, and finally opened wide as he noticed Alice leaning over him. He reared back in surprise—-nearly falling over in the process. "There's no room. No room," he hissed.

She stood there as she once had years ago. There were even fewer guests at the table before and still there was no room? "Are you sure?"

"No room, no room, no room!" He was pulling the hat further down over his face, hiding his eyes. He was gripping it so hard that his knuckles had turned blue.

She moved away from him, stumbling backwards. "I don't know what to do!" She was on the other side of the table before he peeked from under the hat. He breathed out slowly and his arms fell to his sides as if attached to weights. He sat down at the table as if nothing had happened. "Would you like some tea?" His voice quiet and violet eyes exhausted.

"Are you all right?" Shaking off the confusion, she sat in the seat opposite him.

"I'm not all wrong," he replied as he placed a cup and saucer before her. It was empty. He sipped at his own cup--also mysteriously empty. When she looked more closely at the table she found that there was no food or tea. Dirty and clean dishes mingled, all empty except for crumbs. She followed his example and put the empty cup to her lips.

"I wasn't expecting you," he murmured into his tea-cup.

"I wasn't expecting myself, actually."

There was an awkward silence that was broken by a yawn he tried so desperately to hide behind gloved hands. "I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your nap, Hatta. Why don't you go home and sleep? You look dreadful."

He looked down at himself. "I don't see any dreads." He began to brush imaginary beings from his shirt. "Are they gone?" His violet eyes were concerned, as if he actually believed that "dreads" were upon him.

Her eyes softened. "Yes, Hatta, you got them all."

He rubbed an eye, "That's good."

"You're tired," she tried gently, "You should go rest."

He looked about the tea table, perplexed. "But it's tea-time."

"And now it's bed-time." Her tone was firm. She got up and he tensed. Slowly, she made her way around the table. He stared forward intensely. His hat was starting to lean dangerously to one side, but he made no move to correct it. His knuckles were turning blue again. He was holding onto the cup and saucer so hard that she was surprised that they hadn't shattered yet. When she was a step away he muttered, "There isn't any room. Move down." He didn't get up despite his words.

"Hatta, I'm not going to hurt you. Let me help you."

He did move, but not to rise from his seat. Instead, he dropped the cup and saucer to crash against the table. He pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes again. "Move down, Alice." He was trembling violently, his voice hardly a whisper. She took a step backwards. It seemed to have worked before. Then again, she was always unsure of herself in Wonderland. He put his head down on the table. "_Please_. Go," he whined.

"I _can't_!"

"You could before! Everyone has!"

Alice was stunned into silence. "Whatever do you mean?"

Gloved hands covered his hatted head as if she were going to strike him. "No one has come to tea since 6 o'clock. They've all gone and never come back."

"I have come back," she said quietly.

He looked up. A sleeve longer than his arm came up and rubbed at unnatural eyes. "You have."

"I promise to come again if you'll just sleep." She felt terrible for making a promise she was unsure she would be able to keep, but continued on. "You need to sleep. And to eat. Do you have any food?"

Hatta's eyes narrowed as if he didn't quite believe her. "I don't remember."

"Surely you must have a house." At his blank stare, she continued, "Where did you stay before your argument with Time?"

He shook his head.

"Where do you stay now?"

"I don't."

Blonde curls twirled about her neck as she shook her own head, confused once again. He couldn't possibly stay no where. Or was it Nowhere? "But where do you sleep?"

He nodded at the table and smoothed out the table cloth, sweeping away pieces of shattered china. Emotion swelled in her chest--a mixture of anger, compassion, and pity. She wanted to step closer to him, but knew enough now not to. All she could do was ask, "Why?"

"It's tea-time," Hatta's voice was exasperated as if he had explained this to her many times, but she still couldn't understand it. Even if the watch read six o'clock, it couldn't be tea-time indefinitely. Even Time couldn't be cruel enough to deprive him of food and sleep or even shelter. What would he do if it were to rain? It was uncivilized to bind him at the table forever.

"But there is no tea!"

He shook his head sadly, "It has left, as well. It left with the Door Mouse, I'm afraid."

"I wish I could take you home with me," she said softly. Even as the words left her mouth, the world began to swim again. She could vaguely see Hatta staring at her with wide, frightened eyes. He pulled the hat over them and let out a high pitched whine that followed her back to her room in London. She fell with a gentle bounce onto her bed. She remained as she was, giving a gentle sigh and closing her eyes. "That was distressing," she said aloud, thinking back to the Hatter.

"I should say so," she heard from across the room. She bolted upright to see Hatta sprawled upon the floor against the far wall. His hat had fallen to the floor and he held a pale hand against his head.


	3. Fever

"Hatta?" He couldn't be here, couldn't be in her room with her. It wasn't possible. Wasn't it? The White Rabbit had led her down the hole, she had traveled back and forth many times now, but she had always thought it was simply an imaginative dream she'd had when she was younger. A reoccurring dream that had started up again for some reason. It was difficult to believe that it could actually be real, but there he was.

She jumped from the bed and rushed to the silver haired man sprawled upon her wooden floor-boards. He held a hand to his head and the over-long sleeve fell into his eyes. Her skirts melted to the floor as she knelt beside him. Spooked, he pushed himself further into the wall as if he could disappear through it and fall back into Wonderland. She could read confusion and fear in those tense and trembling muscles.

Glancing around, she found his hat lying forgotten on the floor. She dusted it before holding it out to him. He snatched it from her and hugged it to him, deforming the felt in his grip. Pulling his hand away from his head, she asked, "Does it hurt?"

She didn't see any blood, but perhaps he'd bruised it. Alice brushed her fingers over the spot and found a rather large bump. A hiss of breath against her neck pulled her away from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He simply closed his eyes and slumped against the papered wall. With his hair in such a disarray, he looked like an animal that had simply given up the fight and was waiting for the final blow. He just didn't have the strength to fight or flee.

"Hatta?"

"Yes." His voice slurred with exhaustion.

"Can you stand? You can sleep on the bed instead of here on the floor. Does that sound good?" She stood herself, hoping he would follow her example. He surprised her by extending his hand to her. It was the first time he had volunteered to be physically touched. She took it and pulled him up. He half fell into her and she stumbled a little but kept them upright. He leaned on her as they made their way slowly to her bed. She could feel the bones under her hands even through his waistcoat.

This time, he did fall, luckily onto the bed as she was pulling down the coverlet. "'M sorry," he murmured.

"It isn't a problem, Hatta. Would you mind if I took off your boots?" He gave what she considered to be a nod. After untying the laces and pulling the worn leather from his feet, Alice placed them at the foot of the bed. Somehow, Hatta still clung to his hat by the brim. She took it as well and placed it upon his boots. By this time, his unique eyes were hooded and fluttered as if he were fighting Sleep. She couldn't help but think it was a lost battle. Her fingers brushed silver hair out of his face before she covered him with the coverlet.

His eyes shut completely and the room was filled with the sound of his soft breathing. She wished she could have removed his waistcoat and gloves, even his stockings, and she didn't dare now for fear of waking him. Instead, she padded to the door, intending to slip out of the room. As the door was nearly closed, she heard, "Alice...please don't...please don't leave me..."

She paused and smiled, though she was unsure if he were looking at her, "Didn't I promise to? Don't fret. I'll be gone only a moment."

When the door was fully closed, she tore down the hall and descended the stairs as quickly as she could, her skirts held high."Mamma!" she called, "Mamma!"

"What's all this shouting, Alice?" Alice nearly collided with her mother as she turned the corner into the main hall. The fair-haired woman put her arms out to steady her daughter. Deep green eyes narrowed in concern, "Alice?"

Alice burrowed into her mother's embrace and breathed in the subtle perfume that she'd always loved. It calmed her. "I have something urgent to show you and you musn't be angry."

"I cannot be angry if I do not know what to be angry about. Show me what has you so upset."

Taking one of the older woman's soft hands, Alice led her up the stairs, but hesitated before the door. A soft squeeze of her hand gave her reassurance enough to push through the door. Hatta hadn't moved at all, still deeply asleep. "And who is this, Alice?"

There wasn't the half-expected anger in her voice or on her face, but her mother hardly ever displayed her emotions. Alice drew closer to him, "Mamma, this is Hatta. He's... an old friend. He needs help."

A delicate eyebrow rose at Alice before her mother put her attention to the strange man sleeping in her daughter's bed. "Is his hair...silver? He looks so young."

"He is. I think so, at least."

There was a question in those green eyes, but it wasn't voiced. Instead, she asked, "What is wrong that he needs our help? Is he unwell?"

"Well, Mamma," she paused, "He's a hatter." _And he may be dying, _she worried.

The older woman closed her eyes in understanding. "There isn't much we can do for him. There isn't any cure for his sickness."

"I know there isn't, but he needs food and rest. I don't know how long it has been since he has last eaten. I found him asleep at the table before we...came here. Can he not stay with us?"

"He has no home? No family?"

Fair hair whipped about her shoulders as she shook her head, "I don't think so." There had been no talk of parents in Wonderland while she was there. The only child she had met had shortly after turned into a pig. "Please, Mamma?"

"I don't know, Alice. Your father is still in France on business and I've hardly met this man. How do you know he isn't a danger to us? To you?"

"He's my friend, Mamma." She turned to look at the sleeping hatter. "He wouldn't hurt anyone. And I can't just leave him alone. I promised." She didn't mention that she didn't know if she could even return him to Wonderland if her mother turned him away. The hatter groaned and turned in his sleep. His eyes were shut tight and his peaceful expression had turned pained. Alice brushed her fingers over his cheek and a small thrill of alarm went through her. "Does he feel too warm to you?"

Her mother crossed the room and expertly placed the back of her hand to his cheek. He turned his face into the coolness of her skin. A small whimper whispered against the woman's wrist. "He has a fever. I'll have Wendy prepare the spare room while I call for the doctor. Will you be all right here?"

The youngery girl could only nod, her eyes still upon her friend. He han't had the fever a moment agao, had he? She couldn't have been that careless. His hair was already damp with sweat. He stirred enough to throw the coverlet away from him. "March, you've made the tea too hot," he muttered into the pillow. He seemed to be asleep again almost before the last word left him.

_So, I finally figured where I want to go with this story. I hope this will speed up the process, but I make no promises. Thanks for reading. ~Oblivious_


	4. Should Have Never

"Alice, how could you?" She was alone in her father's study, sitting at the desk and desperately wishing he were here. Reprimanding herself was a habit she had formed when she'd been a child and had never been able to rid herself of it. "You should know not to go wishing people away like you've done. How can we take care of him in a world so different from his own? He doesn't belong here."

She sat in her father's big, leather chair. The smell of his cologne and cigars lingered even as he had been away for some months. Taking a deep breath and holding it, she allowed herself to sink deeper into the leather. As she let the breath escape, she felt herself relax a little more. Since the doctor had arrived, everything had become so hectic in the usually calm, quiet house. Wendy, the maid, ran from room to room trying to fetch everything the doctor requested. Alice had been forced from the room and she had retreated to the comfort of her father's study, something she had done as a child after an uneasy sleep and her mother had already gone to bed.

"What if you can't make him well again? What if you've killed him bringing him away from Wonderland?" Hadn't the Cat told her that he'd been the equivalent of dead in his world? What if Death came to collect him now that he was in her own world? Time could not interfere here, could he? Was the hatter going to get better now that his time could move forward? Or was he going to slowly slip away from her now that she had the chance to help him? She couldn't bare it if he were to die. She would always blame herself for intruding at his tea table and sentencing him to Death with only a simple wish. Hadn't she always been told to be careful for what she wished for? She could only imagine her seven-year-old self shaking her head in shame that she'd forgotten something so basic.

"Miss Alice!" she heard from the other room. The voice was traveling toward her and she could hear the faint clicking of Wendy's boots across the wooden floor, softened by the rug that covered it. "Miss Alice! He's calling for you!"

Alice didn't wait for Wendy to come through the door. She shot up from the desk and out of the room faster than she would have thought possible. Wendy anticipated her young mistress and stepped back just as Alice reached the space she had previously occupied. The maid followed Alice, matching her brisk walk. Neither said anything as they ran up the stairs, skirts held high and boots coming down hard in their haste. Alice burned with guilt. She had told him that she wouldn't leave him. What must he think waking to strangers in an unfamiliar place? He must be terrified.

Alice burst into the room where she saw Hatta being pinned down to the bed by the surprisingly muscular doctor. Hatta was thrashing about, calling, "Alice! Alice!"

"Hatta, I'm here! Please, lay still!"

She tried to get closer to him, but the doctor was not letting him up. He threw her a glance that told her he was having no trouble holding his patient down and that perhaps it wasn't uncommon for him to do so. "Can you make him calm?" he asked. His voice was also surprisingly deep and soft for a man of his build.

"I can try," she said as she neared the frantic man. "Hatta," she tried to soothe. She wondered if he could even hear her through his delirium. "Hatta, please. It's Alice. I'm here. I'm right here." She caught one of his hands and held tight to it, calling his name again and again, trying to reassure him that she was with him at his side and that he mustn't panic. Gradually, he stopped fighting. His attention was finally on her and his eyes stared at their joined hands and he wouldn't move, wouldn't blink, wouldn't breathe until he knew that this was real and he wasn't alone anymore in this strange place where colours were washed out as if someone had added too much water and everything seemed lifeless and dead. Everything except Alice, who sat next to him on the bed where the strange man used to be. She smiled down at him and he sighed her name.

"There. I'm right here and I won't leave again. I'm so sorry I wasn't here with you. I was only in the other room and I'm so very sorry." Alice felt tears coming, but shook her head and refused to let them fall. He had been so frightened and she had never seen anyone so distressed before. It was all her fault. She should have never gone from the room, not even after the doctor and her mother urged her to leave. Her thumb caressed the soft skin of the hand she still held tightly with her own.

"Alice," her mother called from across the room. The younger woman had nearly forgotten that there were others in the room besides herself and the fevered hatter.

"Yes, Mamma?" She didn't want to take her attention from the man who kept glancing with unease at the large doctor and the woman who looked remarkably like Alice, except her eyes were wrong and she was slightly taller. Reluctantly, her eyes met the leaf green of her mother's where there was an emotion that she couldn't understand.

"That was very brave, Alice. I'm very proud of you. You may stay, but please give the doctor room to work."

Alice pulled away from her friend. "I'll be right here. I promise. The doctor won't hurt you."

She went to stand with her mother, who put her arm around her shoulders. She leaned into her mother's side and watched as the doctor approached the bed cautiously. Hatta shrank back into the bed and whimpered, but he didn't move otherwise. There was such a difference between the two men. The doctor was broad and muscular with tanned skin and neat, dark hair. Hatta was taller, but seemed so much smaller in comparison. His skin was ceramic white with nearly matching silver hair and the only colour came from those wide, unnatural eyes.

It was difficult for Alice not to go back to her friend, who was now hidden behind the large back of the doctor. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but the quiet rumbling of his voice was soothing. Alice hoped that it had the same effect on Hatta. She still had the feeling that only she could truly understand Hatta and his needs, but at the same time, she was happy to let someone else take charge. She sighed and leaned further into her mother's side.

A rap upon the door proceeded Wendy's soft-heeled footsteps. "I've brought the master's bed clothing, Madam." She held out a neat pile of beige fabric.

"Ah, very good," the doctor said as he strode across the room and took the clothing from the young woman. "I hope you ladies will step out for a moment so that I might help him change."

Seeing Alice's hesitance, he added, "Don't worry. We'll be fine. I'll let you know when it's safe to come in again. Ladies?"

Her mother had to nearly drag her from the room and shut the door firmly. After a moment, she said, "He's a good doctor."

Alice's mouth turned up faintly. Her mother wasn't able to express comfort very well with words, but Alice knew what she was trying to convey. "Thank you, Mamma."

They stood there in silence. Her mother's eyes were closed and her posture was completely relaxed as if she were visiting some secret place in her mind. It took all of Alice's thoughts to keep her from pacing up and down the hall. She put her weight against the wall opposite the door and tucked her hands behind her back to remind them to be still. Alice suddenly understood what the hatter must feel being stuck perpetually in the same time, except that somewhere the hands of a clock were slowly moving for her. It might have been years since they had been exiled from the room. Or merely seconds had run by.

The door opened on quiet hinges and the large man waved them in. Alice did not know what she had been expecting, but she was filled with relief when she saw him laying there, apparently sleeping. He had been changed out of his clothing and now he wore her father's nightclothes.

"He's exhausted. I wouldn't be surprised if he sleeps for days. When he does awaken, even if it's only for a few minutes, give him a glass of water and something to eat, if he can keep it down." He turned to Alice, "Your mother tells me that you found him on the streets. He's severely malnourished. Broth should be the safest food for him now. Anything heavy will upset his stomach."

"What about tea?"

The man, Dr. Stamos, smiled. "Ah, yes. Tea. He has quite the fixation for tea, doesn't he?"

Alice couldn't tell him that he had been constantly at tea since she was seven. "Yes, he does."

"Tea should be fine as long as it isn't too hot and there isn't a long of cream or sugar." He paused, his tone turning serious, "Miss Liddell, I understand that he is your friend. Don't let that cloud your judgment if he needs more professional help than I am able to give him."

She nodded, taking everything in. The doctor went on to speak more with the older woman in hushed tones. Alice went to Hatta's side and watched him breathe softly, his hair fanned around him on the pillow and one of his arms was thrown above his head.

"They're all trying to keep me safe. I know you won't hurt anyone. I'll protect you instead." With that, Alice took the desk chair and sat herself down by his side. She wasn't aware that the whispering adults were gone until the room was completely silent.


End file.
